


By Her Side

by Ljparis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Coruscant, F/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis
Summary: Han struggles to figure out where his place is with Leia at New Republic functions. Or, another formal dinner where Han hates wearing his dress uniform and can't take his eyes off of Leia.





	By Her Side

**Author's Note:**

> There are a hundred versions of something like this out there. I couldn’t get mine out of my head. Takes place about a year or so after the Battle of Endor, I guess. None of that Disney canon with Endor weddings and Ben births, etc. Special thanks to Ginger & Ashley, my wonderful betas.

Han couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

The dress covered every inch of her pale skin, with its high neck, long-sleeves, and skirts that swirled around her ankles. The fluttery light blue silk was sheathed in patches of white lace in some intricate design that Han was pretty sure was Alderaanian tradition, but he hadn’t asked. It covered her from head to toe yet Han found it the most erotic dress he’d ever seen her wear and the only thing he could think about as his gaze burned at her from across the room was peeling it off of her inch by inch.

He coughed into his fist and turned away from her, looking down at the empty glass he held in his other hand. Well, mostly empty. There was still ice, but he had already finished off the brandy he’d ordered.

“Tell me again why you aren’t over there with her,” Luke said, sidling up next to Han, his Jedi robes flapping around him. His lightsaber was strapped to his hip, and his hair was a touch longer than it had been the last time Han had seen him. He remembered Leia teasing her brother about it earlier that day, when he’d arrived for the commemorations.

Han half-snorted. “It’s the commemoration of Alderaan,” he said, “and she’s their reigning monarch. I’m just a smuggler.”

“And a commissioned and high-ranking general in the New Republic military,” Luke pointed out.

“And she’s the last princess of Alderaan and all of these people here are expecting her to marry some prince or royal like Isolder of Hapes and wear white all the time,” Han argued through clenched teeth. He’d been over this before, both internally and with Leia. They, together, the two of them, had decided it would be best if he remove himself from her side throughout the three days of commemorations.

Luke crossed his arms in what Han thought was supposed to be an intimidating pose but instead just looked like the kid was playing at being a grown up. Han suspected he’d always look at Luke and see the fresh-faced, eager farmboy from Tatooine that he’d picked up and not the solemn, wise Jedi that he’d become. “What’s wearing white got to do with anything?” 

Han shrugged. “Some royal purity tradition or something, when it comes to official dress. Guess she was expected to wear white until she’s married and no longer innocent or some bullshit.” He tipped his glass up to his mouth and sucked in a piece of crushed ice to chew on until he could flag down a service droid and order another drink.

Luke opened his mouth to say something else but apparently thought better of it and closed it again.

Han’s gaze wandered back off towards Leia, where she was deep in conversation with Carlist Rieekan and some younger man Han didn't recognize. The younger man bowed and kissed the back of her hand and Han took a step away from the wall before he could catch himself.

“They're all going to have to get used to you being around her some time,” Luke said with a sigh. “Unless you two are having problems.” He looked at him, concerned, and Han wasn't sure right away if Luke was teasing or baiting him or if it was a legitimate concern.

“We're fine, kid,” Han said gruffly. “No problems at all.”

Luke’s eyebrow shot up and Han realized he’d oversimplified the situation. He and Leia would always have problems, though not the kind Luke was implying. Spats and arguments now and again, little tiffs that inevitably acted as foreplay instead of anything damaging. Han swallowed away what was left of the ice and shook his head. “We discussed this in committee,” he said fondly. “Her and me. It’s important to her right now that she don’t offend any of her people. Since we’re not married, she thought it’d be better if I wasn’t hanging all over her or giving anyone the wrong idea ‘bout our relationship.”

Luke pursed his lips together and he hesitated. “What’s the wrong idea to have about your relationship?”

“That we have one,” Han muttered. He set his glass heavily down on the serving tray of a passing droid. “Or, rather, that we’re sleeping together, I think.” He scratched the back of his head and tugged at the collar of his dress uniform where it felt too tight against his neck. “Back to that pure white stuff. She doesn’t want all the Alderaanians looking at her like some fallen woman for -” He took a moment to recall the exact words Leia had used, even if she’d said them with a wry tone and roll of her eyes. “ - ‘engaging in intimate relations with a man who was neither married to her nor consort to the princess.’”

Luke snorted in laughter so loudly that he drew attention to them, including from Leia, who turned and looked their way sharply. Luke gave his sister such a sheepish look that her expression softened. Han couldn’t help but notice that her gaze lingered on him for a moment too long, her cheeks turning a pretty pink, before she returned to her conversation. He scowled at Luke. “Sorry,” Luke said, “but that sounds like some of the worst bantha crap I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” He shook his head, his shoulders shaking in now-quiet laughter. “She’s not even wearing white tonight, Han. Any Alderaanian adhering to that tradition is going to make that connection without you, as you say, ‘hanging all over her.’”

Han couldn’t disagree. He said the same thing when he saw her in the dress, after their argument about the whole thing blew up, and she’d brushed it off. If she wanted to pretend she was still that innocent, pure princess they all wanted, then she should have worn some virginal white frilly princess gown instead of the one she was wearing. His eyes smoldered and he had to look away from her again. “Leia does what she wants to do, even if it makes no damn sense,” Han finally said.

They were both silent for a long moment, the din of conversation throughout the grand ballroom filling in as white noise. Then, Luke sighed. “Han,” he said, “I know Leia -”

“I know Leia too,” Han growled. “Better than you do.”

Luke held up a hand. “We know her differently,” he stressed. “And as her _brother_ ,” he continued, which Han took to mean as someone who had some weird Force mumbo-jumbo connection to her that Han didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand, “I know that she doesn’t care what other people think, even if those people are her fellow Alderaanians.” He paused for a moment. “Alderaan is gone,” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, since those words would negatively attract the attention of nearly every other person in this room. “And while that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t adhere to tradition, I happen to know that she doesn’t always want to. She wants to change tradition. She’s wearing that dress for a reason. You were invited here for a reason. So go take your place at her side.”

Han scowled, shook his head. “She told me not to.”

“Did she? What were her exact words?” Luke’s calming voice irritated Han. The kid always seemed to think he knew Leia better than Han did. He implied that he knew everyone else’s feelings and thoughts better than they did themselves. Ridiculous Jedi mind trick stuff. 

“I don’t remember,” Han said shortly, though he did, now that he was thinking about it. As she stood there in the fresher, threading a thin ribbon of lace into her braids, Leia told him she didn’t want him feeling uncomfortable all evening standing off to her side while she conducted business and spoke to each and every Alderaanian present. That she didn’t want him to think he had to defend himself or their relationship with every question. That, if he preferred, he could hang back and not worry about having to be political. This was her job, not his. “Oh,” he said.

Luke adjusted his robes and tilted his head off in the direction of Leia as if to ask, ‘well?’

“I don’t want to assume she meant something other than what she meant,” Han said. In particular, he didn’t want to make her upset and have the spend the night on the Falcon instead of in bed with her with that damn dress of hers bunched up around her hips and her hair tumbling out of its careful braids. But more than the immediate lust he felt just looking over at the woman he loved, Han Solo really hated it when Leia was upset with him. Really upset with him, and not just their usual bickering foreplay. He didn’t want to lose her over something that could be avoided, something like a political misstep.

Luke sighed. “I need a drink,” he said, and before Han could relay his surprise (ever since officially dubbing himself a Jedi knight and donning those robes, Luke rarely drank), the kid had wandered away from the wall where Han was brooding.

The entire conversation with Luke was as puzzling as any roundabout conversation he had with Leia. Han took things at face value, and when she said she thought it’d be better that he just keep to himself and let her do her political thing tonight, he believed her. Why would she say that if it wasn’t what she wanted? He thought back to all of the other times that Leia said one thing and then he found out later she meant something else entirely. How many arguments had moments like that spawned?

The way Han saw it, he had a few options. One, he could do nothing and hope that wasn't the wrong course of action, or inaction as the case may be. Two, he could walk over there, put a hand on her arm, and spend the rest of the evening at her side. Three, he could go over to her, kiss her, and ensure everyone in this room, Alderaanian or not, knew he wasn't going anywhere. Han immediately crossed option number three off the short list with a chortle of laughter at himself for even thinking it. He didn't have a death wish, after all.

He was leaning towards just staying where he was and getting his hands on another damn drink when he looked over at Leia. She had maneuvered herself in conversation so that she was facing his way, her shoulders and face turned, her eyes on him. Her slender fingers held the stem of her wine glass. He could tell she was still half-engaged in the conversation around her, even if her gaze was focused on him. The pink of her cheeks deepened when she realized he had caught her looking at him, and she jerked her attention back to General Rieekan. The way she shifted from one foot to the other told him she was slightly flustered, and he saw her say something and shake her head.

Han was unable to keep from grinning. Even from across the room he could distract her. Imagine what would happen if he was right next to her. Decision made in a split second, Han pushed away from the wall and cross the room to her, careful not to interrupt the conversation. While he strode over with purpose, he circled the group and came to Leia from the side, his hand slipping casually against the small of her back. Despite his best intentions, the conversation stuttered off.

"General Solo," Rieekan said, surprise lacing his tone. "What can we do for you?"

Han shook his head. "Nothing in particular," he said, glancing at Leia when she tilted her chin to look at him. He smiled down at her. "I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation, Princess," he said. "Please, continue." Leia pursed her lips and, for a moment, Han worried that he _had_ misstepped. Then she leaned back into his hand and picked up the conversation without batting an eyelash. 

Since Han had no reason to join the conversation, which seemed to be about trade routes among the core worlds, he went into observation mode. The young man who had been kissing Leia's hand earlier couldn't take his eyes off of her. The other man, older with a goatee, had shifty eyes, darting his attention from Han to Leia and back again. General Rieekan just looked annoyed and slightly exasperation, which, in Han's opinion, wasn't any different from usual. He gave each of them a grin that he was sure could be described as shit-eating, and inclined his chin as though daring any of them to ask him why he had his fingers splayed against Princess Leia's back.

"If you'll excuse us," Leia was saying, drawing Han's attention back to her as she tugged on the cuff of his uniform so that he'd turn with her as she strode across the room toward the open air patio that no one was using. It was a cool night, and most everyone had remained inside where warming torches kept the inside air more comfortable. When she gave brief, impersonal greetings to each of the people they passed, clearly in a hurry, Han's confidence faltered. His fingers slipped away from their possessive spot at her back.

"Leia," he said as he followed her outside. "Look, I thought -"

"Shut up, Han," she said, and before he could be upset at that, her hand was at the back of his back, pulling his face down to hers. Her lips slid against his until he could get over the surprise and kiss her back. Though he wanted to thread his hand in her hair, he knew that was going too far - Leia hated looking flustered and ravished at public appearances - and he settled for the bare skin at the back of her neck, cradling her up against him. He tasted the wine on her lips.

He broke the kiss, leaning against the wall, the two of them out of sight from within the ballroom. "Everything all right, sweetheart?" he asked.

Leia's eyes were slow to open, her face tipped up towards his. She nodded. "I'll ask Baaken to rearrange the table so that you're sitting with me for supper," she said after a moment. Her hand found his and she laced their fingers together.

That comment didn’t even make his list of things he thought she was going to say. "What are you talkin' about?" he asked. "'m fine sitting where I'm sitting. No reason to make things difficult."

Her jaw set and she cleared her throat before speaking. "Isn't that why you came over instead of sulking in the shadows?" 

His brow furrowed. What did where he was sitting for supper have anything to do with whether he was being a wallflower or standing beside her? Han started to shake his head and then stopped. "Now wait a minute," he said, "I thought you wanted me to stay away from you tonight."

"But you didn't," she said, the tip of her tongue against her lower lip. "Why didn't you?"

What kind of back and forth infuriating conversation was this? He stood up straighter. "I don't know," he said. "I looked over at you and you were lookin' at me with those eyes of yours and maybe Luke put the idea into my head with some of the Jedi mind magic or somethin'." They both knew Luke had done nothing of the sort.

Leia arched an eyebrow.

He sighed. "He said that maybe you hadn't meant it when you said you wanted me to stay away from you tonight."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "What did I mean, then?" she asked, and he could tell just from her tone that he was either in big trouble or about to be told he did something right without even realizing it. It was sad that he wasn't even sure which one it was. Her almost-smile tipped it over towards her being pleased, but stranger things had happened, Han knew.

"The hell if I know," he grumbled. "Look, just tell me now if you're upset that I interrupted your politics talk, all right? I don't even have to stay for supper. I can find something to eat somewhere else, back on the Falcon. I bet Chewie's cookin' something good."

She caught his hands in hers and stilled him. Her fingers squeezed his wrist where his pulse thumped, and he relaxed. "I told you that because I didn't think you'd want to get involved in all these boring conversations and that the whole thing would make you uncomfortable. I didn't think you even wanted to be here for all of this."

"I want to be anywhere you are, Princess," he said sincerely.

Her smile lit up her eyes. She reached up to adjust the collar of his uniform and smooth down the lapels. "Anywhere?" she repeated.

Han swallowed. "Yeah," he said, leaning down to brush his mouth against hers. "Even if it means I've gotta be your consort or a kept man or whatever." He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly as she huffed and rolled her eyes. He grinned. "If that's all right with you, your worship," he drawled.

She licked her lips and brushed the back of her hand against his jaw. "Well, it took you long enough," she quipped. 

Before he could react, she stepped away from him and turned to return to the party. She stopped, the twinkling lights framing the doorway shimmering on her skin, and reached a hand out to him. Han took a deep breath, then slid his hand into hers and walked back in at her side.


End file.
